Take Them As Was Willing
by Baylor
Summary: Courage, conspiracy and friendship. Merry Brandybuck & Co. are determined not to let Frodo leave the Shire and go into danger alone. Set during Book I of The Fellowship of the Ring.
1. Brandy Hall

Title: Take Them As Was Willing, Part One: Brandy Hall (1/5)  
Author: Baylor  
E-mail: baylorsr@yahoo.com  
Web site: www.geocities.com/baylorsr  
Rating: G  
Characters: Merry, Pippin (non-slash)  
Category(s): General. Book canon.  
Archiving: Anywhere, just let me know.  
Summary: Courage, conspiracy and friendship. Merry Brandybuck & Co. are determined not to let Frodo leave the Shire and go into danger alone. Takes place in "The Fellowship of the Ring" (chapter: "The Shadow of the Past") before Gandalf tells Frodo of the true nature of the Ring.   
Author's note: Special thanks to my most wonderful beta, Marigold, a gem among hobbits!  
Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns them. I just borrowed them, and I promise to put them back.  
  
Take Them As Was Willing  
By Baylor  
  
"'And after all, sir,' added Sam, 'you did ought to take the Elves' advice. Gildor said you should take them as was willing, and you can't deny it.'" -- The Fellowship of the Ring, A Conspiracy Unmasked  
  
I. Brandy Hall   
In which a conspiracy takes shape   
  
"Our cousin Frodo," whoosh, "is most definitely," squelch, "up to something." Clump.   
  
Pippin made this pronouncement immediately upon entering the third study at Brandy Hall -- my favorite haunt -- where I was passing a rainy day in front of the fireplace reading and dozing. It was accompanied by the removal of his wet outer clothing, which he deposited in a heap on the rug before tossing himself heavily into the other end of the sofa. I pulled myself into a more upright position to give Pippin more space and looked over at his damp, flushed face with amusement, glad to see him after nearly two weeks apart.   
  
"Well, hello to you, too, Pippin. It's wonderful to see you again. Will you be staying long?" I asked with mild irony. "Mother's going to have a fit if you do not pick up those wet things," I added. I hoped he had come straight in from the east entrance and had not dripped water through the entire Hall looking for me.  
  
"Didn't you hear what I just said?" Pippin exclaimed. "Are you not at all concerned?"   
  
"I am most concerned about sending Mother into a flurry and ruining what has been, up until now, a perfectly peaceful and pleasant day," I replied, looking pointedly at the pile of wet garments and the trickle of water now escaping from them. I wanted to hear what he had to say about Frodo -- very much, in fact -- but I knew if I didn't get Pippin to clear away his outerwear now, it would lie on the floor until I picked it up myself.   
  
Pippin heaved a sigh worthy of the long-suffering and hefted himself from the sofa to scoop up his belongings and disappear back down the hall. While he was gone, I set aside my book and filled my pipe.   
  
"What's more," Pippin continued the moment he re-entered the room, "I am certain Sam knows something about it, though I couldn't get a word out of him. I think Frodo may very well intend to give us the slip and follow after old Bilbo, and that just won't do at all!"   
  
I lit my pipe, watching Pippin out of the corner of my eye. Fortunately, he was more talking at me than to me, and didn't seem to find my reticence odd. "And why is that, Pip?"   
  
He tossed his hands up at my thickheadedness. "Because I want to go with him, of course! How can one go off on adventures without a Took? Bilbo has quite ruined things for us by giving Bagginses the corner on travels and dangers."   
  
His answer took me off-guard and I choked a little when I started to laugh just as I was pulling on the pipe. He scowled fiercely at me, his face the picture of indignation.   
  
"Don't laugh, Merry. Gandalf always used to come to the Tooks first when he needed a good hobbit or two to rely on for an adventure. Why, he and old Gerontius were lifelong friends, but you wouldn't know it for all he never shows his face at the Smials anymore. And the next thing you know, Frodo will be off without a word, just like Bilbo, and I will be too old for it in another 60 years when Gandalf needs a new hobbit!"   
  
Pippin ended this rather exuberant speech by tossing himself despondently into the depths of the sofa again, which this time gave off an objecting "whump" and a small puff of dust. After a moment, when I didn't respond, he fished out his pipe and silently held out his hand for my tobacco pouch. I silently handed it to him and waited for him to fill and light his pipe.   
  
"So," I said after we had sat and smoked for a few moments, "tell me where you have been and what you have been up to. I take it you have been keeping Frodo company, but what makes you think he is hatching these nefarious plans? Has Gandalf resurfaced up at Bag End?"   
  
"No," Pippin said glumly. "I just came from there. But Frodo has maps scattered all over the dining room table and he had just come back from being off tramping for a few days -- by himself, mind you! -- and talking with dwarves off on the Road and he just has that LOOK, Merry, you know the one, like he might go out for a stroll in the garden and just decide to keep going."   
  
Oh, I did know that look, and Frodo had been wearing it for months now. It was the same look Bilbo wore for the entire year before his infamous final birthday party. My stomach sank a little. What was going on up in Hobbiton, and why I had not had any word about it? I fed Pippin another little verbal nudge to keep him going.   
  
"So what did Sam Gamgee have to say about it? You said he knows something."   
  
Pippin snorted. "Oh, you know Sam, he won't say much about Frodo. Worried about being thought disloyal, I suppose. But I cornered him in the tool shed before I left Hobbiton, and he was downright skittish about me asking questions. He knows something, all right, but I don't know that it's any better asking Sam than asking Frodo himself."   
  
I turned Pippin's words over in my head, fiddling with my pipe. I hadn't been to see Frodo in some time, my father having kept me busy with my responsibilities in Buckland. And I'd no word from Bag End in quite awhile. Maybe I had been too comfortable with my arrangements. After all, Sam was a stickler for loyalty . . .   
  
"Hey!" Pippin's voice was dangerously suspicious. "You don't know anything about this, do you? You do! You've known about this before I set foot here in the Hall!"   
  
"Oh, Pippin," I began, but he was off. I knew there was no stopping him so I settled back to wait him out.   
  
"Meriadoc Brandybuck, I can't believe you! You know what Frodo's plans are and you weren't going to say a word to me. You were just going to let him run off like Bilbo did and have all the fun for himself. And to sit here and act like you didn't know a thing!" He gasped, and the tips of his ears began to turn red. "But you're not going with him, are you? Oh, Merry, that's just cruel! Why would Frodo ask you and not me! And how could you leave without me? How could you, Merry?!"   
  
Pippin was on his feet by now, looking like he didn't know if he should tackle me or cry or both. For my part, I couldn't decide what I should to with poor Pip: hug him or laugh at him or thunk him on the head.   
  
"Pippin, Pippin!" I said, putting my palms up in surrender. "For mercy's sake, I'm not going anywhere! And I don't know any more than you do about Frodo and his plans. Just calm down and let me explain."   
  
"But he has plans, doesn't he? You know that Frodo has plans and you didn't tell me!" Pippin continued in a petulant voice, a flailing arm coming dangerous close to Aunt Peony's favorite vase. "You just let me go on and on about --"   
  
"PIPPIN!" I fairly roared. "Be quiet for one moment and let me speak."   
  
Pippin closed his mouth with an audible click and came to a halt in front of me, his arms crossed in front of his chest. I sighed in relief and lowered my voice to a normal speaking level.   
  
"Thank you! What I was trying to tell you is that I don't know if Frodo has any plans to leave or not. All I know is what you know -- he's had that LOOK. I spent a fair amount of time at Bag End this past winter -- you know that, you were in and out enough -- and I noticed Frodo looking at maps and gazing out at the Road often enough to get nervous. So when I left, I told Sam Gamgee to get word to me if he thought Frodo was getting ready to bolt off somewhere by himself. I don't want to be left behind while Frodo is off adventuring any more than you do! I figured if Sam sent word, I would swing through Tuckborough and nab you and we could descend upon Frodo and convince him to take us along. After all, it would be hard to send us away if we were there all ready to go. I didn't say anything only because I don't know anything, cousin, and didn't want Frodo to catch wind that I had an eye on him, least it make him more sneaky about his departure. So, there, that is all and I hope it satisfies you."   
  
Pippin opened his mouth, and then closed it again, pressing his lips tight in thought. He returned to his seat and tried again a moment later. "But then why did Sam act so strangely when I asked him about it? He was very nervous."   
  
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, I don't know, Pippin, maybe he was nervous you would fly off the handle and jump to conclusions."   
  
"Oh, really, Merry, there's no worry of that . . ." Pippin said, his voice trailing off at the last word. The tips of his ears turned red again. "All right, all right, maybe I did get overexcited. But I really thought for a moment there that the two of you were scheming to run off by yourselves. You wouldn't, Merry, would you? You meant it when you said you would come through Tuckborough and get me?" he finished anxiously, leaning toward me a little closer.   
  
"Of course I meant it, you silly hobbit!" I exclaimed fondly. "Otherwise you would just be following after us, and who knows what kind of trouble you would get yourself into before you caught up with us. It could wreck all of Frodo's plans, whatever they may be. Besides, we'll need to use someone as bait if he has it in his head to fight dragons like Bilbo."   
  
"Hmph!" he said haughtily, giving me his most scathing look. "I suppose I'll believe you, though you two would have given me the slip before if I weren't too smart for you."   
  
"Too nosy, you mean!" I said with a laugh. "Pippin, you were all of eight years old and you had no business trekking about the countryside with us, even if it was just in Green Hill Country. Your mother nearly had a nervous fit when she found out you'd followed us and we hadn't sent you straight back home!"   
  
"Still, it speaks to a pattern," he replied in a lofty voice that I knew well meant he had forgiven me.   
  
"Yes, I'm surprised you are still willing to associate with two such inconsiderate relatives as Frodo and myself," I said wryly.   
  
"Well, someone must keep the two of you out of trouble and set a good example," Pippin said without a trace of irony. "So, when shall we leave?"   
  
"Peregrin Took, have you been in the cups this early in the day? Did we not just discuss in excruciating detail the fact that I know nothing of Frodo's plans, or even for certain if he has any plans?"   
  
His face drooped. "Oh, yes, that was the short of it, wasn't it? Still, it seems we should have some type of plan for keeping a watch on Frodo better than relying on Sam Gamgee."   
  
I set my pipe down and looked Pippin in the eye with my most serious face. "We could do much worse than Sam Gamgee, cousin. He is as trustworthy as they come, and he cares too much for Frodo to let him go wandering off alone. That alone insures that he will alert us if anything is happening."   
  
Then I smiled and laid a hand on Pippin's arm. "But I have heard enough from you to convince me that I should ride to Bag End this week and check on Frodo. I'll have another word with Sam, make sure he is still with us and tell him to be a little more active in his news-gathering, so to speak. I'll also tell him you're in on the plan now. How does that suit you?"   
  
"Splendid!" Pippin declared. "I believe we shall be off on an adventure before the end of summer, Merry! What a grand time we shall have! And maybe we will even bring old Sam along. He is always talking about Elves with the most smitten look on his face, have you noticed?"   
  
I laughed. "I have indeed. But for now, it is a cold and wet day and I propose we enjoy being safe and snug indoors, with no dragons in sight and tea time now upon us. What do you say we make a raid on the kitchen?"   
  
"You are full of grand ideas today, Meriadoc." Pippin was already following me out of the room and toward the kitchen. "Say, you don't think Frodo will insist we go without tea on our adventure, do you? I mean, I could see elevenses or second breakfast, but surely not tea."   
  
"Certainly not if he has to listen to you carry on about it," I called back over my shoulder.   
  
"Just what I was saying -- the two of you most definitely need me along as a voice of reason and intelligence," Pippin stated definitely. "How you would ever have gotten along without me -- Hoy! Merry!"   
  
The rest of my cousin's oration on his own merits was cut off as I closed the kitchen door firmly on his face and pushed the wedge underneath it with my foot. He would be around one of the other doors in half a minute, but that was enough time for me to snag the lone surviving tart sitting on the table, half-hidden by a discarded apron.   
  
I was licking jam from my fingers when Pippin made it around to another door. "What did you do that for?" he asked, his face pink and scowling.   
  
"What I want to know is how we will feed the voice of reason and intelligence," I said, ignoring his question. "We'll have to each carry our own weight in supplies to keep you satisfied."   
  
"I'm a growing hobbit, Merry," Pippin said cheerily, balancing a scone atop a teacup. "And I don't see why we should let adventuring keep up from our tea."   
  
"That's the spirit," I said with a chuckle. I nudged the wedge out from under the door and opened it. "Shall we?" I asked Pippin, who was now carrying a well-laden tray.   
  
"We most certainly shall," he answered with satisfaction.   
  
### 


	2. Overlooking Bywater

II. Overlooking Bywater   
In which Sam delivers unexpected news   
  
Sam Gamgee was sitting with hunched shoulders, staring into his mug of ale with morose intensity. "It's above my head, and that's all I have to say about it," he told the ale.   
  
"Oh, come on now, Sam, the ale's not going to tell your secrets. Out with it!" I said from directly behind him.   
  
Sam leapt up and whirled around, and I thanked hobbit agility that I was not wearing his drink on the front of my shirt.  
  
"Mr. Merry!" he declared with a wild look in his eyes. "You really oughtn't be creeping around behind people like that."   
  
"I was hardly creeping, Sam," I answered with a grin, pleased to have gotten such a satisfactory reaction from the staid Samwise. I took the stool next to his at the bar. "And you're the one who was wanting to meet -- it's not like you weren't expecting me."   
  
Sam was still standing, and I looked up at him. He seemed truly unnerved, and it was starting to trouble me. Sam's short letter, arriving several weeks after I had brought Pippin into my plans, had just asked to meet as soon as possible. I had assumed since it did not say, "Come at once, Mr. Frodo is leaving!" that his news was not dire. Now I was wondering if I had been too slow to respond. "Sit, Sam. Join me for a drink and let's have out with it."   
  
He sat but did not pick the mug back up. "Not here, Mr. Merry. We need to get off where no one can overhear us," he said in a low voice, glancing around the noisy inn filled with ale-saturated hobbits.   
  
Sam Gamgee is not the type of hobbit to make a fuss over any little thing, and I've never known him to be easily alarmed. Sam is that good, rare breed who simply rolls up his sleeves and does what needs to be done without any stir or bother. But here he was, scared and upset, and if he said we needed to talk in private, that's what we needed to do. Now I was truly regretting not getting on a pony and setting for Hobbiton the moment I had received his letter last week.   
  
"All right, then," I said. "Finish that up -- you look like you need it -- and let's slip out. Quickly, though: Pippin stopped outside the door to speak to the Boffin lads, and if he sets foot in here we'll not be out for a good time."   
  
Sam downed the rest of his ale dutifully and we headed out of The Green Dragon. Pippin was still on the threshold, telling the Boffins something that involved grand arm gestures. I caught the edge of his jacket between two fingers and pulled as Sam and I walked past.   
  
"Come on, then, cousin, or we're leaving you," I said over his, "Merry! We just got here!" He followed, however, calling something to the Boffins about peremptory relatives that I'm sure I would have found unflattering had I been listening.   
  
I was too busy watching Sam to pay much attention. He was walking quickly with both fists shoved deep into his trouser pockets, his head down. The knot in my stomach grew a little tighter with each despondent step that Sam took. Despite not looking where he was going, the gardener confidently led us off the road and onto a path, then onto a trail, and lastly to a grassy hill where he thunked himself down. He finally looked up, but his gaze was on the stars, not us.   
  
Pippin had fallen silent after Sam and I had pointedly ignored a number of questions about what was happening and where we were going. I seated myself beside Sam and Pippin plopped down beside me. We waited.   
  
I had just made up my mind to speak when Sam broke the silence. "Aye, I don't see as how it could be worse," he said, eyes still fixed firmly at the night sky. "It's no joke, and it's no grand adventure, and I don't know why it had to come to Mr. Frodo." He turned his head to look at me, and I could see that his eyes were damp. "But at least we're knowing about it, and he's not going to be alone in all this, and I am right grateful for that, Mr. Merry, I certainly am."   
  
"So am I, Sam," I said gently, not comprehending any of what he was talking about. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest, but I forced myself to wait and let Sam find his way around to speaking his bit. Pippin was practically quivering beside me, but he remained silent.   
  
Sam roughly drew his arm across his eyes. "But there I go on, and you and Mr. Pippin not understanding a bit of it yet. There's nothing good to be told, but you're needing to hear."   
  
And so he told us, a halting speech that seemed to choke Sam in the telling. Kings and Elves and great battles. Bilbo and that wretched creature Gollum and a magic ring. Fire-writing and Mordor and a burning mountain.   
  
The Enemy.   
  
Pippin and I did not speak as Sam relayed all that he had heard pass between Frodo and Gandalf. I am not certain that I breathed. It must have been the longest speech to come out of Sam Gamgee at one time in all of his life, and when he finished he heaved a great, tired sigh.   
  
"So that's all there is. Mr. Frodo is leaving the Shire, but not on a grand adventure. Evil things ahead and evil things chasing him, that's what he'll get. But not alone, oh no! I mean to go with him wherever he gets it into his head to go, and there'll be no giving me the slip, not after Mr. Gandalf told him to bring me along. But I am afraid, at that." Sam leaned his arms on his bent knees and rested his head upon his limbs, hiding his face from view.   
  
I took a huge, gulping breath and pried my eyes from Sam's face for the first time since he had sat down. Everything about me looked the same. The stars had not shifted position. The hills had not crumpled away. Lights still twinkled at us from Bywater. But I felt as though I surely could not be in the same Shire I had woke in that morning. These could not be the same fields I had played in as a child with no thought of danger ever in my mind. And this could not be my dear cousin Frodo we were talking about, the same one who took me hunting for berries on long, hot summer afternoons in Buckland, and who told me wonderful stories of dragons and dwarves to amuse me when I was ill. How could the same Frodo who had bought me my first ale, and who served tea promptly at four o'clock, and who made the most splendid mushroom soup in Hobbiton, this cousin, our Frodo -- how could the Enemy be looking for him?   
  
Pippin was the first to speak into the long silence that followed Sam's revelation. "But, Sam," he ventured in a quavering voice, "where are we to go? You make it sound as if there isn't a safe place left."   
  
"I don't know that there is, Mr. Pippin," Sam said, lifting his head back up to the sky. "But wherever Mr. Frodo leads, I aim to be right beside him."   
  
"Well, yes, of course," Pippin replied in a tone that I knew meant for not a moment had this dark talk made him of staying behind safe in the Shire, and my stomach lurched a little. "But I was thinking in terms of an actual direction, with some type of plan as to where we may eventually light. Did not Frodo and Gandalf speak of such?"   
  
Sam gave Pippin a sharp, worried glance. "No, there was no talk of that type. But after old Gandalf got through with his bit -- which was a mouthful, let me tell you -- and they were through deciding what to do with me after pinching me under the window, there wasn't much talk for the rest of the day. I think Mr. Frodo just needed to think on things some after all that."   
  
"I'm sure," I said, finally trusting myself to speak in a steady voice. "But Gandalf is still here, Pippin, and I feel certain he and Frodo will plot a course more definitive than 'leave the Shire.' We shall have to rely on you again, Sam, to be our eyes and ears. Although it should be easier now that Frodo has discovered you, so to speak, and will be including you in his plans. That was nice work in a tight spot with Gandalf, too," I added, jostling Sam's shoulder with my own and smiling at him.   
  
Sam nodded his head once, jerkily, in acknowledgment of the compliment, but he looked miserable, almost ashamed.   
  
"I nearly didn't tell you, Mr. Merry," he said in a voice so soft I could barely hear it.   
  
I felt my way carefully through my response. It had bothered me somewhat to start with that we were going behind Frodo's back, and that was when it was mostly a game. Now the ruse had doubled in both seriousness of deception and importance of success. One hobbit could not bear this burden alone. Frodo would need our help, even if he did not know he had it.  
  
"It's not disloyalty, Sam," I said after a long pause, swallowing hard. "You said it yourself -- Frodo will be fleeing from danger into danger. He will need all the help he can get. I don't know what we can do against the Enemy to protect Frodo, but at least we will be there. It's not disloyalty," I repeated. "It's, it's . . ."   
  
"It's love," Pippin said simply.   
  
"Aye," I sighed in relief, reaching a hand out to rest on Pippin's arm. "It's love."  
  
Sam sniffled a little, but his head was back down and I couldn't see if he was crying or not. "It is at that, Mr. Merry," he said in a shaky voice. "It is at that."   
  
### 


	3. Crickhollow

III. Crickhollow  
In which Pippin surprises Merry  
  
"I wish he would just get on with it, now that we know what must be done," Pippin said from behind me.   
  
I didn't answer. From my vantage point at the parlor window in the sparsely furnished Crickhollow house, I could see Frodo meandering about the small gardens, ostensibly to see how they would suit Sam. I knew well that what he really was doing was breathing deeply the Shire air and feeling the sun on his shoulders.  
  
"It is just awful, this waiting," Pippin continued, coming up to stand beside me and peering out at Frodo. "Don't you think, Merry?"  
  
"He does not want to go," I said softly. While Pippin was fretful with worry for Frodo, as evidenced by this chafing impatience, I found that I was simply sorrowful for my older cousin, who loved the Shire so.  
  
Pippin snorted. "Of course he doesn't! But nothing has changed, and he must go, and this ridiculous charade about his money running out -- well, it's just no good for my taste. If we must leave, I say we should grab our packs and be gone. This waiting is interminable."  
  
I turned to look at Pippin, frowning. I knew he was anxious, but there was nothing more we could do at that moment. "It is what he thinks is best, and the plan that he and Gandalf set upon. What would you have us do -- tell him we know of the Ring and then decree his next move? It is his burden, Pippin, not ours."  
  
He waved off my concerns. "No, no, I don't mean that, and I don't begrudge Frodo a moment he gets to spend at Bag End and not on the Road. But the wait is agonizing once you have decided what course to take!"  
  
I looked at Pippin hard for a moment and then turned back to the window. Frodo's body had disappeared from view, but I could spy the top of his head over some shrubbery. I heaved a sigh.  
  
"I wish he were coming to live here, even if it meant giving up Bag End. So close to the Hall, among family and friends. We could practically live on the banks of the Brandywine next summer . . ." My voice trailed off at the thought of what could have been. What would never be, I feared.  
  
Pippin made a noncommittal noise and I could hear him moving restlessly about the room. I could track him without turning almost as much by familiarity with his pattern of pacing as by sound. Always moving, that one, never able to sit still or be idle, until all the motion caught up with him at the end of the day in one fell swoop and he toppled into the deep slumber of the innocent.  
  
My knuckles tightened on the edge of the window sill.  
  
"Pippin," I said in a low voice.  
  
"No," he said emphatically.  
  
I did not turn to look at him, still following Frodo's path intently with my eyes. "Yes," I said firmly, knowing he understood my intent perfectly without further words.  
  
"Meriadoc Brandybuck," he said in his clear, ringing voice, "I am going with Frodo."  
  
I finally turned from the window to face the confrontation I had had been dreading. Pippin stood tall, legs apart firmly on the ground. He had on his most determined face, the one I had readied myself for, and I saw -- something, something new, flicker across it. I turned my gaze from that something new, resolute that I would not be dissuaded from my intent.  
  
"Someone needs to stay here at Crickhollow and give the impression that Frodo is still about for a while," I said, looking at some point on the blank wall behind Pippin's shoulder. "They can tell visitors Frodo is ill, or working on some project, or something. We need to throw off anyone who might come looking for him with bad intentions for as long as possible."  
  
"Fine. We will find someone to stay behind at Crickhollow," he answered steadily.  
  
"I mean for it to be you," I said plainly.  
  
"No," he said just as plainly.  
  
I drew a deep, quivering breath and scrabbled together what determination I could find. I have never been able to deny Pippin anything. None of us has. It was no easier now than when he was a lad wanting one more story, or the last slice of cake, or to go traipsing about with the bigger children rather than staying at home with the children his own age. But this time, this time I was decided that Pippin would not have his way, not when it could mean his very life.  
  
I looked him directly in the eyes. "I will go to your father, Pippin, and tell him everything, and then you'll not even be staying at Crickhollow, never mind going off into the wild with Frodo."  
  
His lips pressed together into a thin line and the tips of his ears reddened. He didn't speak for several moments, and I knew he was holding back the stream of invectives I had anticipated would follow my ultimatum. When he did begin to speak, his voice quavered some, but it was still as clear as a bell.  
  
"What would you have me say, Merry? What would you have me say when you and Frodo and Sam are overtaken on the Road and the Ring falls to the Enemy? What would you have me say when his armies come storming over Brandywine Bridge? What would you have me say when all we hold dear is wiped away? That I was afraid, so I stayed behind in safety? That I was young, so I let my dearest friends, those I love more than myself, go to face danger alone? That I didn't know what good I could do anyway, so I decided not to do anything? Is that what you would have me say, Merry? Is that the kind of hobbit you would have me be?"  
  
My mouth hung open, so thunderstruck was I. Pippin's shoulders were back and his head was high. That something new I had seen in his face, glimmering behind his 'I want my own way' look, had covered over the old expression. His eyes flashed at me, and for a second, for a breath, I almost took a step backward.  
  
"I just, I would," I faltered. I put a hand on the window sill and the feel of something solid beneath me brought me back to myself. "I would have you unhurt, and unthreatened, Pippin. I would have you alive." I choked at the end, barely able to even voice the idea that Pippin, he who could not be dearer to me were he my own brother, would be anything but alive, ever.  
  
"Oh, Merry," he said, and it was a tone I had heard countless times, and when I looked at him, the fond, indulgent smile was one I had seen on his face countless times. "Oh, Merry," he said, my Pippin again, "of course you would. And you would have Frodo never leave the Shire except on a pleasurable ride to visit with Elves, and you would have Sam eternally cultivating the gardens at Bag End in busy contentment. And I do not believe you would choose this for yourself, either, cousin, and nor would I, but I don't think we get to choose. This is what is. The only choice that I see as I get to make is to do anything I can against the Enemy, or to hide here in the Shire and hope the Darkness never comes. For if it does, no one in the Shire will be unhurt, or unthreatened, Merry, and staying here would not guarantee my safety.  
  
"I am going with Frodo, even if I am not any good to him. At least he will know I am there, and he is not alone in this," he finished.  
  
So there it was, and I still have never been able to deny Pippin anything. This has always been his way -- to not only win the battle but to make you love him all the more in your losing.  
  
I passed my arm across my stinging eyes and took a shaky breath. "Aye, well, I had to try," I said, my voice a mite unsteady.   
  
"Of course you did," Pippin said cheerily. "But you should really know by now that there is no use trying to leave me behind -- I will follow you every time."  
  
"I do know, Pip, I do," I said, and reached out my arms and then he was in them, and my face was buried in his curls and he was our dear little Pippin and this new person who was just emerging all at the same time. "Tell me, cousin, how can I have known you since the day you came squalling into this life and still have you surprise me so thoroughly?" I asked into his hair.  
  
He laughed and I imagined I could feel the joy running through him and passing into me like a tangible thing. I wondered if he knew that he did this -- shared all that wonderful energy with anyone who came close enough to his glowing spirit.  
  
"Well, I would hate for anyone to ever say, 'That Peregrin Took, now he was one you always knew what to expect from.' Can you imagine, Merry, me growing into a predictable hobbit?" He shuddered.  
  
I stepped back to look at him, loosening my embrace but keeping my hands on his shoulders. "Pippin," I said seriously, "I assure you that so long as the sun rises and the stars shine, no one will ever call you predictable."  
  
"I'll second that!" came Frodo's voice from the doorway. Pippin and I pulled apart and I quickly rubbed at my eyes with my sleeve again. "What's all this?" Frodo asked, catching sight of our flushed faces and my wet cheeks.  
  
"Frodo," Pippin said gravely, "there is something we must talk to you about." I opened my mouth in horror, but there was no way to stop him without giving everything away myself.  
  
"Well, speak up then," Frodo said, his face now serious and his brow furrowed with worry. My stomach fell down into my feet and flopped around a little in anxiety.   
  
"Our dearest cousin," Pippin began, "we say this only because we love you and know what this means to you. You may try to stop us, and you may say it's rash, but, Frodo, dear Frodo," he paused dramatically and my heart stopped beating, "we simply must help you finish the last of the Old Winyards before the Sackville-Bagginses can get their hands on it."  
  
Frodo and I both let out our breath in a gust and promptly began laughing with relief. My knees wobbled a little and I silently vowed that someday Pippin would get his for this behavior.  
  
"Peregrin, my loyal cousin and friend," Frodo answered, "I will accept your help in that regard most willingly." Then he looked at me and tilted his head slightly, wanting to know if something was wrong. I shook my head slightly and quirked a smile at him. Frodo looked puzzled, but I knew he would let it rest for now.  
  
"We hobbits must do what we must do," Pippin replied, his voice still solemn, though his eyes were twinkling. He clasped an arm around Frodo's shoulders and the two of them started back out of the house. "So what will Sam think of the gardens?" I heard him ask as they passed the threshold.  
  
I stayed for a moment, looking out at the gardens again. Sam would have found them to his liking, I think, and though it wasn't Bag End, this was a nice little place and Frodo could been quite happy here.   
  
But we hobbits must do what we must do.  
  
As I closed the door behind me, I realized what the something new I had seen on Pippin's face was. Courage.  
  
### 


	4. The Golden Perch

IV. The Golden Perch  
In which Merry and Pippin have a laugh at Fredegar's expense  
  
"This is the worst thing I've ever heard! Really!" Fredegar Bolger declared for the second time, as if we needed convincing. He seemed to be unable to process our news beyond his initial astonishment, making me wonder if I had in fact been wrong in my choice.  
  
"Yes, quite," Pippin said impatiently, "but this is the way it is, and we mean to help Frodo all we can." He cast me a quick, cutting look and I knew I would never hear the end of it if Fredegar fell apart now. Pippin had thought that Freddy, though big-hearted and loyal, was simply not made for this type of deed, family ties and friendship aside.   
  
Fredegar took a healthy swig of his ale. "Of course, of course, we must do what we can for the poor old lad, though what good we will be in the affairs of wizards and the like, I don't know."  
  
"From what we have gathered, Gandalf intends to go with Frodo when he leaves the Shire," I said. "Now, I imagine Gandalf is about the best help Frodo could ever hope for, but, still, it is not the same as having other hobbit folk about. I don't pretend we'll be much good in the way of fighting, if it comes to that, and we may be more hindrance than help at times, but if Frodo must suffer the discomforts of the road, he at least may suffer them with the reassurance of some friends at hand to share in his hardships. We mean to go with him when he leaves."  
  
Fredegar's eyes were as round as his face, and his mouth hung open. "Go with him!" he exclaimed, making me nervously check to see if anyone had heard him. "You mean leave the Shire? But you can't mean -- but hobbits just don't -- I mean to say, it isn't -- oh, bother! I wish I had not gotten out of bed today!"   
  
He reached out with some type of ale-espying sense cultivated through long years at many inns and snatched a mug off a passing serving lass' tray, ignoring her "Hoy! That's not for you!" He then downed the draught in one long pull, his neck bobbing. When he was done, he set the mug down with a thunk, heaved a great sigh, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  
  
"I thought you were wanting to talk about a lass, Merry, when you said you needed to discuss something of importance," he said miserably. "But, you're right, we can't let Frodo go off without his friends at his side, or what kind of friends would we be? I'm for it."  
  
Pippin and I stared at Fredegar in stunned silence for a moment, and then we both burst out laughing. Of all the reactions we had anticipated from Freddy, it had not crossed our minds that he might offer to go with us.  
  
"Oh, Merry, can you just see it? Fatty Bolger trying to live off the land, and sleeping on the ground, and, and, and marching, Merry, marching for hours on end! And without an inn in sight!" Pippin's voice gave out as he nearly collapsed onto the table in front of him in guffaws.   
  
I poked him in the ribs and hissed, "Shhh!" while struggling to keep my own laughter quiet, never an easy task when Pippin's infectious giggles were pealing out. The Golden Perch wasn't even half full tonight and we were tucked into a corner table, but still, this was supposed to be a secret conspiracy.  
  
"What?" Fredegar asked indignantly. "What did you come and ask me for if you think I'm not up to the job? I'm not warm to the idea, but friends are friends and we hobbits must stick together. What?"  
  
"Fredegar, you ass," I said affectionately, wiping my eyes and trying to return my breathing to normal, "we aren't asking you to leave the Shire with Frodo. When I said 'we,' I meant Pippin and me. And Sam Gamgee, of course, he knows everything as well, and Frodo already plans for Sam to go along with him." I eyed our cousin Fredegar with pleasant surprise at this newly uncovered fortitude.  
  
"Then what do you mean for me to do?" Fredegar asked, the emotions on his face warring between hope that he did not have to embark on a dreadful adventure, and fear that I was about to put him to some worse, unimagined task. I squelched a sudden evil urge to torment Freddy a mite.  
  
"Cousin Frodo has gone to a great deal of trouble to make certain people do not know he is leaving the Shire, so that if anyone should show up in Hobbiton asking for him, it will be reported that he moved to the house in Crickhollow. But if Frodo is nowhere to be found at Crickhollow, the Bucklanders will notice quick enough, what with so many relatives ready to welcome him back across the River. We want you to stay at the house for a while and give folk the impression that Frodo is living there," I explained.  
  
"Oh! Is that all!" Fredegar looked as though I had just pulled him from the mouth of a dragon. "But of course! I should be happy to do so. When the Bucklanders come to call, I will say he's gone to Hobbiton on business, and should folks from Hobbiton come to visit, I will say he's off at Tuckborough. And I'll just tell the Tooks he's not in the mood to see them and have his nice new home tore up with their drunken shenanigans." He looked pointedly at Pippin with his last words.  
  
"Now look!" Pippin said, brimming with indignation at this defamation of his family name.   
  
"Come on, Peregrin, that whole mess with the Hornblower estate, and don't tell me you weren't there," Fredegar began, as Pippin countered with, "Oh, you know the Boffin brothers were the start of all that!"  
  
"Lads," I said warningly, amused despite myself, "we were talking about Frodo and his dire plight, remember?"  
  
"Oh, yes," they said together.   
  
"So that's settled, then. Fredegar will stay behind at Crickhollow, and Pip and I will set off with Frodo and Sam -- and Gandalf -- as soon as Frodo gives the word," I said, relieved to have one more task attended to. "He told me he has made up his mind to leave Bag End on his and Bilbo's birthday, but I do not know if he plans to leave Crickhollow immediately, or stay a while. I think perhaps he does not know himself, but intends to hear Gandalf's thoughts on the matter. At any rate, we must reveal ourselves to Frodo, so to speak, soon after he comes to Crickhollow. I do not know how much longer any of us can keep up this charade, anyway," I added, glad to know that soon I would be able to speak frankly to Frodo.  
  
Pippin and Fredegar nodded their heads. "Well, you seem to have everything worked out well enough, Meriadoc, and I am glad to hear I can be of help without traipsing off to far lands," Fredegar said. "I would have done it, for Frodo, but I find this task much more to my liking. Still," he cast a hard look at our younger cousin, "I think I would have been some use on the Road."  
  
Pippin snorted. "After that disastrous walk you took with us through the West Farthing? First, you started asking when we would stop after we had only just started. Then you nearly set yourself afire while setting up camp, and then to discover you had packed your bathing toiletries and wanted to know when bath time was!"  
  
"Oh, I took a little bit to adjust, but it was my first ever walking trip," Fredegar said good-naturedly. "And I soon was marching along as well as the three of you."  
  
Pippin had just taken a drink of ale, but he mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "poison ivy." Fredegar began to turn red.  
  
"What was that, Pip? Sounded like you said, 'ivy,'" I said innocently. Pippin had sworn to Fredegar that he wouldn't tell a soul, so of course Frodo and I had known before the end of the day. Being of a more discreet nature, we let Fredegar think we were ignorant of the incident.  
  
"I didn't say anything," Pippin said, setting down his drink, his face carefully schooled in the expression he used when he was about to say something he thought was complete muck but wanted the listener to believe was sincere. "You're right, of course, Fredegar, I'm certain you would have been a great, rugged traveler in no time, and of enormous comfort to Frodo. But someone must shoulder the burden of staying in front of the fireplace in Buckland and answering Frodo's front door."  
  
"And happy I am to be of service to our dear friend," Fredegar said sincerely, graciously ignoring what I knew he recognized as verbal jabbing from Pippin. He looked from Pippin to me and back several times, his eyes misting over.  
  
"Oh, now, don't start," Pippin said, his tone half irritation and half affection.  
  
Fredegar's bottom lip trembled, and it occurred to me that perhaps we should have had this conversation somewhere that Fatty couldn't get his hands on quite so much ale, given how emotional it can make him. He snuffled a little, but managed not to begin crying outright.  
  
"Look here, Freddy," I said in a low voice. "Frodo would do this and more for every one of us. I am frightened, of course I am, for Sam and for myself and for Pippin." My heart gave an especially hard thump at the last name and picked up its pace a little. "But most of all, I am frightened for Frodo. And more than that, if I understand everything from Sam rightly, I am frightened of what will happen should Frodo fail. I am so frightened by the thought that it near paralyzes me. But I can't see letting Frodo go off alone no matter how scared I am."  
  
Fredegar nodded wretchedly. "You are right, of course, Merry, and I am glad to be of some help. But who would have thought we would ever be caught up in such a mess!" He raised a freshly filled mug (which I could not recall ever seeing him obtain). "May you come back safely. All of you," he said solemnly.  
  
"I'll drink to that," Pippin said, hoisting his mug.   
  
"So will I," I added, pleased to have another piece of my plan in place. I lifted my mug and we drank to the end of the Road we had yet to set out on.  
  
### 


	5. Buckland

V. Buckland  
In which Merry finds his courage in an orchard  
  
"Well, son, that was a good call with these trees, but I am sorry that you are right," my father said, intently studying the strip of bark he had just cut off the apple tree. A grove of trees in the back orchard were suffering from some type of blight, still early in its progress by my reckoning. Father sighed and lowered the bark, surveying the orchard.   
  
"You caught it early," he said, "and perhaps we can halt its progress and save some of the crop. If not, at least we can prevent it from spreading to the rest of the orchard." He clapped a hand to my shoulder. "This was good work on your part, my lad."   
  
Normally my heart would have swelled at this type of praise from my father, hobbit to hobbit regarding the workings of our estate. It was what I had always valued most my whole life: to have Father see me as a responsible hobbit worthy of his trust, to have him value my opinion in the management of our land. But today this accomplishment felt hollow, and only the smallest flicker of pleasure kindled in me. I may have saved the crop, but I doubted I would be here to see the harvest.   
  
Father did not seem to notice my melancholy, moving from tree to tree and checking for the disease to see how widespread it was. I followed after him, hands in my pockets and head down, my thoughts on other matters. I did not think that in my life I would ever have to deal with anything worse than a crop blight, or the need to burrow further and add onto the Hall, or at worst a potentially dangerous flooding of the Brandywine, but these days my head was filled with much more dire scenarios. I found myself going over and over our plans in my head, checking for flaws, trying to determine what we might need on the road that I had failed to anticipate. How to keep the easily chilled Frodo warm enough at night, and to make sure Sam didn't overload his pack by taking more than his fair share, and Pippin -- the vise around my heart tightened a little bit more, and I left off the thought. I would not -- could not -- think of Pippin in peril and rely on myself to maintain a clear head.   
  
I raised my head to survey the orchard and found that my father had stopped at the crest of a small hill and was looking at me appraisingly. "Eh," he grunted, "join your old da for a rest, would you, Merry?" He sat so he looked down over the ancient Hall and the river that separated our lands from the Shire proper, wincing a little in a way that I knew meant his knee joints were protesting the movement.   
  
I stood beside him for a moment, digging into the turf with my toes, feeling like I had as a child caught stealing sweets from the kitchen. Father is nobody's fool, and my sinking stomach told me I had been caught in my dark study one too many times and now I would have to account for myself.   
  
"Sit down, lad," Father said. I obeyed and pulled my knees to my chest, resting my arms upon them. We sat silently for several moments and then Father confirmed my fears.  
  
"Your mother thinks it is a lass, Merry, but I think not," he said, still looking out at the fertile land and not at me. "At first I thought perhaps Pippin had gotten himself into some type of grave trouble, and that you were worrying yourself ill over it, but I saw the lad last week and whatever weighs on you does not burden him. Rather my nephew is restless and eager for some event yet to come. I cannot fathom what is afoot to strike you two so differently, yet I feel certain 'tis the same matter."   
  
I swallowed hard and wiped my clammy hands on my trousers. Father was coming very close to the mark without anyone having said a word to him.   
  
"And if it's not a trouble of Pippin's that is weighing on your mind," he continued, "it must have to do with Frodo. My thoughts are that this move to Crickhollow is not what it seems, and there's some type of trouble behind it. I have found this a strange event from the start, knowing how Frodo loves Bag End. But I cannot imagine what type of distress would make you feel you could not come to your father for help. If there is trouble with money, Merry, then surely you, and Frodo too, know that the Brandybucks take care of their own and he has nothing to fret about."   
  
I pressed my forehead into my arms, still draped over my knees, feeling caught between the brambles and the thorns. I also felt foolish to have thought we had been so clever and secretive.   
  
"It isn't money, sir," I said, and started to go on but then realized I did not know how to continue.  
  
Father waited patiently for a moment, and then prompted me. "Can you not say, son? If it need be kept in confidence, I will keep it, but I would not have you involved in some type of trouble, thinking you cannot turn to your own family for help. You may come to me no matter the problem; I have always told you this and meant it. Can you tell me nothing?"   
  
I drew a deep, shuddering breath, feeling as though someone were squeezing about my chest and preventing me from getting air. I had never kept secrets from my father, and the need to unburden myself to him was almost a physical pain, but this was too great a secret, too great a risk to share even with those I loved. Or perhaps especially with those I loved.   
  
"Da," I said in a choked voice, reverting to the name I had used in childhood, "I have never lied to you."   
  
"I know, Meriadoc," he said with a touch of pride when I did not immediately continue. "Whatever scrapes you may have gotten into in the past, you have always been honest with me about them."  
  
I fought back hot tears. "I cannot lie to you now," I said miserably, "but this is not my trouble to share with you. And, Da, it is . . . well, it could be perilous for you to know. I would not keep it from you if it did not have to be so."   
  
I finally found the courage to look my father in the face. His gray eyes were solemn and his brow furrowed. "I have faced many a trouble in my day, Meriadoc," he said gravely. "There is naught I would not do for Frodo Baggins, were he to ask it of me. Are you certain you cannot share this burden with me?"   
  
"He does not . . ." My voice faltered as I tried to work out the words, but Father was quicker than I.   
  
"Ah," he breathed, "Frodo does not know that you are aware of the trouble. Secrets upon secrets, Merry. This is not like you."   
  
"I know," I said, and felt a tear break loose down my face. I wiped it away, angry at myself for succumbing to the well of emotions inside of me just when I most needed Father to see me as capable and in control. "But I do not see another way right now, Father, and I would not have you drawn into this danger as well."   
  
I looked at the grim set to my father's jaw and the lines creasing his forehead and wondered if this is how I had looked these months to my family. If so, it was astounding that I had not been confronted before this. He returned the gaze, studying my face intently, searching for something. Whatever it was, I knew he had found it when he heaved a great sigh and turned away from me to look out over Buckland again.   
  
"Well, you are determined to see it through, whatever it is, and to do it without my aid," he said. "But you are afraid, son, and I do not know what to make of that. You have never been plagued by childhood fears over the nonsense most young folk fret about, so if you say there is peril, I believe it must be near-mortal in nature."   
  
I bit my lip as I searched for words. Part of me was enormously relieved that Father had guessed enough for me to give him some type of explanation, no matter how sketchy. It had troubled me -- that I would go off without a word to my parents, without a good-bye or a warning. I would not have them thinking I had abandoned my responsibilities with no thought to the consequences. There was nothing I could do that would prevent them the worry they would feel while I was gone, but at least I could let them know I left with forethought and as much preparation as possible, and did not merely go running down the Road without a handkerchief, as Bilbo had all those years ago.   
  
"Father," I said, suddenly feeling more confident, "do you mean it when you say there is naught you would do for Frodo, or give up to help Frodo?"   
  
"Of course, my lad," he said, turning back to me and appearing startled that I would ask. "I have known him since he was a wee babe, and a finer hobbit or a better friend you could not ask for." Then the light in his eyes changed as they filled with heavy knowledge, and for a second it was almost as though my own eyes were reflected back to me.  
  
"Oh," he said softly, "indeed. That is costly aid, Merry."   
  
"He would never ask it," I said, "but I will give it to him even if I must press it upon him. He is the dearest of friends, and our kin, and this trouble comes to him unbidden. I cannot let him face it alone and still look at myself in the mirror, Father."   
  
Father was silent for a long, long minute, his lips pressed tightly together. Then he smiled at me, but it was a smile tinged by sorrow. "Well," he said, "I am snared by my own trap. I suppose this is my reward for raising a son to be the type of hobbit I always hoped to be myself."   
  
The pride I did not feel earlier in the blighted grove suddenly welled up within me so swiftly it was as if a dam had burst inside my heart. I had always tried to be a good son, and Father had never been faint with his praise, but never had I heard or hoped for such words from him. I already felt them taking root, bolstering my resolve and courage to do right by Frodo.   
  
My emotions must have been beaming through my face, for Father chuckled and stretched his arm across my shoulders. "You will be careful, son," he said.   
  
"Yes, sir," I answered.   
  
He nodded in satisfaction. "That is all I can ask. You are taking Peregrin, then?"  
  
I nodded. "Yes, sir."   
  
"Hmph." His lips pressed tightly together again for a moment, and I added, "I tried to --"   
  
"Ah, no point in that," he interrupted, "unless you intend to tie him up and stow him in one of the cellars. Even so he would but follow you at his first opportunity. I will speak to his folks, after. You take great care with him, now, Merry."   
  
I sighed in relief. "The greatest care, Father," I answered.   
  
"I don't suppose the Gamgee lad will be along as well?"   
  
"There is naught that could stop him," I said seriously.  
  
Father looked pleased. "Good, that's good. He is a hobbit that may be depended upon. And there is other help, too, I hope?"   
  
"Aye, I hope," I said softly. "Both expected and unexpected, if we are lucky."   
  
Father laughed gently. "It is Frodo who is lucky, I am thinking, to have such friends at his side. I do not understand what this danger is, but I judge it to be bigger than anything in hobbit imagining. Let us hope it does not prove greater than hobbit sense and love."   
  
I swallowed hard, and a bit of fear crept back into my bones, but conviction and hope were flowing too strongly in me now for it to take over.   
  
"Those are great allies, Father," I said, "hobbit sense and hobbit love. I think I would take them even over great armies of Men."   
  
Father pulled me to him in a crushing hug and I returned it with relish. "Do not forget that, Merry, for you have them both aplenty. Let them serve you well."   
  
"I will, Da," I answered softly, feeling my father's confidence in me lighten the burden on my shoulders. "I will."  
  
THE END 


End file.
